


Blood and Soufflé

by EttelwenAilinon



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3363371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EttelwenAilinon/pseuds/EttelwenAilinon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara wants to make perfect soufflé but it's not working very well...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood and Soufflé

**Author's Note:**

> I have already posted it on [Tumblr](http://ettelwenailinon.tumblr.com/post/105686472381/blood-and-souffle). Thanks to my beta [river-song1912](http://river-song1912.tumblr.com/)

‘No, no, no, NO!’ Clara Oswald cried when she opened the oven and a puff of black smoke came out. Not again! This was the second one today! All she wanted was a perfect chocolate soufflé but no, she always got this burnt stuff.

She went to remove the “soufflé” and throw it into the kitchen sink or something but she didn’t notice the hole in her glove and burnt herself. With a squeak she dropped the bowl on the floor where it shattered into tiny pieces.

‘Ouch!’ She cried again and stuck her hand under the water tap immediately, trying to cool it before a blister appeared.

‘Clara?!’ She heard the Doctor calling from her bedroom, where he had just parked his ship. She forgot that today was Wednesday. Great. Big space dork, just what she needed now.

‘Clara, what’s happening? Why’s there all the smoke? Are you okay? Are we under attack?’

‘It’s fine, Doctor, I’ve only burnt a soufflé.’ She yelled back.

‘Are you sure?’ The Doctor asked as his head popped out from behind the corner with nose covered with his adorable holed sweater. ‘It smells as if it has been poisoned. And that’s not fun at all. Do you remember when the sky was-‘

‘Everything’s alright, okay?’ She said it more angrily than she intended. She saw his hurt face and added. ‘Just…help me clean up the mess. Please.’ 

The Doctor bobbed down to do the said work. What was with her today? She was acting really weird and distracted. Add that to with how touchy she was the he tried to make fun of that burnt soufflé, she clearly wasn’t in herself today. There was something wrong and he didn’t like to see her like that.

When she let out a painful sigh, the Doctor lifted his head from the shatters on the floor. ‘Clara!’ His eyes widened in horror as he saw her palm with a wide cut from the base of her forefinger to the other edge of the palm. She looked dizzy as she stared with a blank gaze at the crimson stream. He quickly jumped for the nearest dish towel and covered the wound to stop the bleeding.

”s nothin’, Doctor.’ She said in weak voice.

‘It definitely is something. You almost split your hand in two.’ She wanted to withdraw from his grasp but he was holding her tightly, although very gently. He dropped his head down to face her. ‘Come with me into the TARDIS. Let me take care of it.’ Let me take care about you. She wanted to say something but he quickly shushed her. ‘This is not a topic for discussion or question. Come.’ He took her by shoulders, despite her protesting, and led her to her bedroom and into his ship.

…….

Clara had never been in the sick bay of the TARDIS. She had never had to. The room was similarly designed to the console room. There were the round things on the wall and the light on the ceiling was pleasantly orange. She liked this new colour better than the old one. Now it was hot and reminded her of the fireplace and home. On the wall were lot of shelves and cabinets containing all the medical stuff from all of history and from every corner of the universe. In the middle of the room stood a chair, like from a dentist’s office. Although it looked like almost every surgery she ever had been in, the room didn’t smell like it. It smelt like the TARDIS always smelt like…a perfect soufflé.

The Doctor sat her on the chair and started to search through the cabinets and shelves and boxes. She was watching him, wondering, how much had he changed. After he changed his face he almost wasn’t able to take care of himself and now was the big space dork taking care of her.

‘So, you’re gonna be a proper doctor now.’ She said with a tired smile.

He let out an insulted puff. ‘You’d be interested to know that I’m a proper doctor. University of Glasgow, 1888. Although it’s few centuries and faces before this one, I dare to say that I still remember something.’ He turned around, towel and sink with blue water in his hands. He moved the stool from the corner close to the side of her chair. He removed the dish towel from her hand and examined the wound.

‘Nasty.’ He said. He began to wash all around the cut. Although he was doing it carefully, trying to not to cause her bigger pain, she wrinkled her nose.

When he was finished with the washing, he pulled a small black tube from his pocket, opened the cap and squeezed green glowy stuff on her hand. Certainly something he could learn in the 1888’s Glasgow. He began to rub her palm gently.

‘Tell me, Clara, what was that? Why are you still trying so hard to make a soufflé?’

She was looking as he was drawing soothing circles on her palm. The wound started to itch. ‘Because…I still haven’t found the right recipe. And…and because of my mum.’ She whispered. ‘It would have been her birthday today. And I wanted to make a soufflé like she always did on birthdays. But it never tastes right. No matter how many times and how many recipes I try. Even when it smells and looks like good. It’s never same like mum’s.’

‘I…I understand you, Clara. I really do. I had a…friend once.’ He looked at her with his big teary eyes. ‘She was very precious to me. We were together and we were running. We thought we would run forever. But we didn’t. One day the Universe decided that we had had enough happiness and tore us apart. And when we finally found each other again, things got…complicated. We were separated again but she wasn’t alone anymore. She has a new friend and is probably happy now. She has a new life, probably a husband and children. But I…I don’t like ball bearings anymore. Everytime I look at them, everytime I taste them, it doesn’t seems right. It’s not how she made it. You can’t find the right recipe because it simply doesn’t exist. Not any more. But one day you will make your own recipe. And one day your recipe will be missed. It’s not flour or eggs or milk that makes the right soufflé, it’s the people you are with.’ He stopped applying the goo to her palm, lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. ‘And I’m so happy I’m with you.’

Without any warning Clara winded her arms around the Doctor’s neck and buried her face into his shoulder. The Doctor stiffened. ‘Clara!’

She swiftly withdrew. ‘Right. Sorry. Hugging. You don’t like it.’

‘No. No, I mean…it was…quite nice. Unexpected but nice.’

She lifted an eyebrow. The echo of her previous sadness fading in her eyes as the corner of her mouth twitched in an amused grin.

‘If you…er…don’t you…’ The Doctor was struggling for the right words.

‘Don’t I what?’

‘Don’t you want to…er…’ He was looking everywhere except her. ‘Don’t you want to continue? 

She throw herself on him almost violently, hugging him in as tight an embrace as she could manage.

‘Errr….Clara? Thanks to my advanced Time Lord physiology I can go without breathing for long periods of time but it doesn’t mean I don’t need to breath at all.’

She wasn’t listening and hugged him even more.

‘Thank you.’ She said to his shoulder.

‘For what?’ Said the Doctor, bewildered.

‘For being you.’


End file.
